All Knowing Elf
by DARN i lost my ink pen
Summary: Based on the movies. Legolas gets a dose of his own medicine when nobody responds to his random words of wisdom the way he expects! Scenes will be re-written to accomodate our elvish hero's idiocy. Some Legolas-bashing, open to requests.
1. All Knowing Elf

Normally I like to portray Legolas as a realistic character with some depth to him, as you'll see in my other story (especially the fifth chapter). But my friend and I were watching the extended edition of ROTK last night, and we just couldn't resist making fun of the random, unhelpful lines Jackson assigned our hapless hero. So, here is some narcissistic, oblivious elf bashing in this series of random scenes from the movies.

_This is the scene during the marshalling at the Dunharrow, when Theoden reviews the numbers of troops that have responded to his call and Legolas makes an astute observation:_

All-Knowing Elf

Legolas had just hopped off of his horse and strutted away, leaving Gimli to find his own way to the ground- headfirst -, when he suddenly noticed something. Arod hadn't nudged his perfectly toned arm, looking for a sugar cube; in fact, the horse had merely stood, nervously pawing the ground, and behaved as though he never expected the generous elf to give him a treat.

Something was definitely wrong.

Legolas, perceiving this with his incredible insight, felt that it was only right for him to warn the other, less-acute beings around him of this phenomena. The first man he considered alerting sat on a pile of saddle blankets, examining his grubby fingernails. Legolas couldn't understand what was so interesting about clumps of earth (and other unsightly elements) stuck to one's fingers, but chalked the strange fascination up to the Rohirrim's obvious lack of manicure sets. Which, if true, left him with the question: what did they do at night if they didn't file their nails or re-braid their hair?

But Rohirric soldiers' habits were not of his important concern at the moment. Arod's listlessness was. Legolas gracefully approached the fighter.

"Good man, my horse is twitchy."

Scratch, inspect, satisfied grunt.

"Strong warrior, he has not asked me for a treat."

Stare, indifferent grunt.

"Good, strong, warrior-man, are you capable of speech at all?"

Scratch, dig, dismissive grunt.

Legolas regarded the man, concerned. This situation was much worse than he had originally thought; he must alert an officer. Fortunately for his delicate feet, he was saved a trip across the six foot stretch separating him from the king's tent by Eomer's well-timed arrival. While not exactly the brightest horsemaster in the stable, the third Marshal of the Mark did have his redeeming qualities.

His hair was respectfully inferior to Legolas' own, for one.

Gliding towards Eomer with impeccable posture, Legolas delivered what he personally felt was a most clever line. Not only did he address the matter of his horse, he also touched on the Rohirrim's speech impediment:

"The horses are restless…and the men are quiet."

Eomer stopped short and gazed at Legolas in a rather patronizing manner. The elf thought that, if he were not so congenial, he might be extremely insulted.

Gimli and Aragorn materialized behind the sister-son of Theoden. Legolas grinned inwardly, now there would be two more slightly intelligent peoples to interpret to this incompetent, bungling, amateurish pony-trainer exactly what he just-

"Have you hit your head, elf?"

Huh? Was that brash line directed to _him_?

Gimli interrupted Eomer by pointing out that he, actually, was the one who had been abandoned to land on his cranium. Legolas did not even get his well-deserved chance to retort when Eomer began ranting in italics:

"_Of course _the horses are restless, Legolas, they're about to be sent off _involuntarily_ on a deadly _suicide_ mission from which none of them might _possibly_ come back! And the men are quiet because most of them are sleeping off their drunkenness from last night's _keg_ _party_, and those who aren't are nursing hangovers fit to make _Orodruin_ implode!"

Aragorn shook his head at Legolas, and tut-tutted: "You're supposed to _know _this, Legolas, you're the all-knowing elf!"

Legolas blinked. Where had he been when this keg-party took place? Why wasn't he invited?

Gimli sniggered into his greasy beard: "Because you're such a prude, we just slipped some sleeping powder into your wine." Legolas frowned at the dwarf, startled. They were reading minds now?

Chuckling, Eomer rubbed his chin. "I honestly thought that you would taste the herb, seeing as, in Aragorn's words, you're the all-knowing elf, but…I guess even elvish taste-buds have to take a break from being superior every once in a while," he snorted and clapped the stringy-haired, smelly Ranger on the back. The three of them, without even giving his lithe form one last glance, walked off like the best of chums, leaving Legolas in shock…and in a cloud of their body odor.

Was it some unspoken rule that all substandard beings prided themselves on their stench?

And why, since they had acknowledged his wisdom in all things, did he get the distinct feeling that he had been made fun of?

Legolas ran a fine-boned hand through his glistening hair. All these unanswered questions were giving him a headache. That most recent one made…what? Five? Or did his last enlightening thought extend the number to six? And what of that one? And that one?

Circular reasoning must have been a curse that Men brought with them.

Suddenly a ray of light pierced the wise- yet presently befuddled- brain of Legolas. A piece of his mother's advice to him when he was but a handsome young elfling surfaced: _practicing your archery will make it better_. His glorious blue/brown/purple orbs shot open.

"To the field!"

He stuck a pose for a moment, ignoring the puzzled expressions of the men around him, before quickly locating his quiver and bow. They were squashed among the saddle blankets, beneath the finger-nail-obsessed soldier. He had to shove the unresponsive man off of his seat, and give his weapons a thorough scrubbing before he was satisfied that his immune system would not have to battle any low-grade germs. Legolas then trotted off towards an open area, convinced that a light dose of practice and a heavy amount of showing up those mute Rohirrim would solve all his problems.

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If anybody has a request for me to do some Legolas-bashing on a particular line, I will be happy to do so!


	2. Nametags

I realized- thanks to La pit' ete, that this somehow got deleted...oops. Don't worry, I will get all of the requests up; some of them will just take longer than others. Kyon, my kitty muse, has informed me that tuna is not enough anymore; he wants big, meaty reviews. So please supply him (and me) and you might get to see a cat spirit's happy dance!!

_Scene of the Council of Elrond. The famous line that Legolas delivers after Boromir's speech, and my theory on the real reason why he shouted it. _

Nametags

Legolas sighed as the Rivendell breeze caressed his face. It was a very lucky breeze, he concluded, to have the chance to touch his face and play through his hair. Not every wind got that opportunity- especially with such a striking, astute, charistmatic, alluring, generous, humble elf.

He allowed himself a humble smirk.

Surveying the motley crowd gathered around him during this Council of Elrond (it included dwarves, for Eru's sake!), Legolas focused in on a man who, it must be admitted, had an aroma that was less than hygienic. In fact, it could be called smelly. But Legolas would not go so far as to call names.

Who was he? His nameplate was not to be seen. Surveying his own pure mithril nametag with well-founded pride, Legolas decided that the man must not have been important enough to keep in mind; ah well, the resourceful elf would just call him Ranger for the time being. Although…he did look familiar.

A slow-looking man whose tag read 'Boromir' also scrutinized Ranger, before starting to whine about his country's border security. Pssh. Perhaps it wouldn't be that bad if all the soldiers would just quit taking vacations. Legolas immediately smiled and inwardly congratulated himself on his astounding problem-solving skills. He himself should take over Middle-Earth, if only to ensure that it ran smoothly.

Eventually, the understaffed Gondorian's tirade wound down and silence settled. Legolas shifted in his chair. Perhaps it was time for cream pastries and those little cheesy nibbly bits he was so fond of.

Shift, glance, pause.

Elrond glanced expectantly at him. Legolas supposed that the Elf Lord had finally realized how horridly inferior his brown hair was in comparison to his own. Really, brown? How outdated.

Smirk, shift, wait.

Elrond rose his slender, yet brunette and therefore substandard, brow at Legolas before nodding towards Ranger. Yes, the un-nametagged man was rather out of place but why point that out to _him_?

Glance, confusion.

Elrond sighed exhasperatedly and rubbed his forehead. _"Say the line!"_ he hissed. Legolas stared blankly back at the other elf.

_"To Boromir! Tell Boromir who the Ranger is!"_

Well of course, he needed telling. Elrond hadn't bothered to make introductions and the Ranger's nameplate was missing! Suddenly, Legolas' keen eyes spotted it- hanging by a thread, half-hidden, and dirty, but there all the same. A…r…a...q…no, g…

Twenty seconds later Legolas jumped up from his seat in triumph. "He is no mere Ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn!" Oh yes, Estel. The grubby little kid who had followed him all over the palace, trying to glue honey sweets into his hair. Elrond just had to invite him.

However, Legolas had a line to say.

He continued smoothly at Elrond's prompting cough.

"Oh…er, yes. You…owe him your alliegence?" This last line was directed to Boromir who did an admirable job of looking enlightened and surprised.

Aragorn, however, only looked amused. "You forgot my name, didn't you?" All eyes swiveled from Legolas to stare at the man; not that the elf minded, Aragorn was, after all, the perfect example of what happens when you decide that saving the world is more important than personal hygiene.

Legolas, ar ranging his cape about his feet, gazed at Aragorn, his perfect brown/blue/purple eyes wide and innocent. "No…"

"Yes you did, till just now, when you saw my nametag!" Aragorn insisted.

"No, really, I-!"

Aragorn spread his hands open, as if to dispense his weather-stained wisdom to all. "You could have just asked somebody, you know. I wouldn't have minded." Legolas looked discreetly around to see if any elves were appearing with trays of delectable food. Not a leaf stirred. The thought that Elrond might be watching his weight occurred to the intelligent prince before he was oh-so-rudely interrupted for the second time.

"I'm sure somebody would have told you." Legolas scowled at the smirk on the Stinky Mortal's face.

He huffed. "Why would I ask somebody? I don't CARE about your name!"

"So you admit it, you didn't remember my name." Aragorn looked pleased with himself.

A fat, red-bearded dwarf sniggered in a corner. Legolas imagined him with a quiver-full of arrows stuck in him- in a non-violent, world-peace-is-my-goal type way, of course. And _when_ would they be serving those cheesy nibbly bits?

"I did! I just don't care about it!"

Aragorn acted scandalized. "So you don't care about the man to whom the Steward of Gondor owes his allegiance? Whatever will that make Boromir think about Elvish nobility?"

Legolas shrugged his shoulder; by this time he couldn't even remember why he was at the Council. And he was getting stressed. Stress was not good for his golden locks; it made his scalp dry and itchy and his hair dull and lackluster. It also ruined his cuticles. In short, stress was to be avoided at all costs. And here was this Ranger waltzing in and dumping a bucket-load of it on him. Fortunately, Legolas had an easy cure for that.

"To the field!" Legolas paused, striking a dramatic pose, before prancing away down yonder to the archery field. Then he pranced right back, pledged his bow to a very confused Frodo, plucked a couple of cheesy nibbly bits off an incoming platter, and pranced down again blowing kisses all the way.

Elrond was left trying to calm the hysterical Ranger. Aragorn, son of Arathorn hadn't laughed that hard in ages.

"What just happened, Gandalf?" Frodo asked, turning to the wizard.

"I think that Legolas has just joined the Fellowship," he answered.

Several groans and thumps could be heard. Turning, the Ringbearer could see a dwarf, a man, and Aragorn, son of Arathorn unitedly hitting their heads against Elrond's shiny walls.

* * *

Please review. I've had so many people read my fics and not reviewed. It's very frustrating as I work hard on my pieces. Even if you hate them, I'll have you know that I am a perfectionist and always make sure that I achieve the particular style and emotion that I want to portray. So please, respect that and tell me what you think. Thanks!


	3. Unfairness, Part I

Many thanks to my reviewers, I hope this chapter meets up with your expectations. This is the first of my requests that I've finished. I'm working on a hairbrush installment (thanks Lady Ambreanna) and the 'A diversion' line (thanks Talayna Tramae). Believe me, everybody else, I'm working on your stuff. Keep reviewing and suggesting!

_First of a two-part short. This one, quite obviously, deals with Legolas' line about the orcs taking Merry and Pippin. The next will take place when Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas meet up with the Rohirric party, and then discover the hobbits' fate. _

Unfairness, Part I

"LEGOLAS! OH, KIND, BRAVE, STRONG, HANDSOME, EXCELLENT ELF! PLEASE SAVE US!" The hobbits screamed as the orcs dragged them away. What they actually yelled was something more along the lines of "HEELLLP!" but Legolas, bounding speedily after the poor creatures, ignored this. He leaped across a wide river almost on his enemies' heels- only to realize that he had forgotten his hairbrush. He halted, torn between maintaining his gorgeous self and rescuing the two little hobbits who had come to love and trust him so much.

He settled for the hairbrush; bounding speedily after hobbits is best done after a full beauty treatment. Pippin and Merry would understand if their rescue took a bit longer than expected.

Legolas knew this, because he was the all-knowing elf, as Aragorn liked to point out. The elf was glad that Aragorn was finally recognizing his rank among them.

Well...rank in more than one meaning of the word. Perhaps that smelly Ranger would finally take a shower, now.

Legolas was of the opinion that Arwen must have betrothed herself to Aragorn on the night she'd had a cold.

The elf hesitated before pursuing his grooming kit. He should let Aragorn know of his plans, to be completely fair. Legolas couldn't have the others thinking that he'd taken off on his own- they _were_ fully dependent on him, after all. He settled down on a tree limb, brushing his hair, and waiting for his companions. Aragorn finally arrived on the scene, panting and gasping; Gimli stumbling behind. Legolas trotted leisurely to meet them.

"They're taking the hobbits to Isengard, but I just need to go grab my comb and brush set so I'll meet you up at the Gap of Rohan! Oh, and I'm taking the lembas, too, because I'll need it and frankly you two should be cutting down on your intake of fatty foods anyway."

However, the stench that rose as Gimli removed his helmet so choked the elf that all that came out was "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"

Aragorn stared at his superior companion with a disbelieving expression. "No! Really? See the sign right there: Isengard. Straight ahead." And indeed, the quoted sign was ten feet away from the group, dozens of heavy, orcish tracks mutilating the ground around it.

Legolas, still coughing and gagging, attempted to reply; Gimli and Aragorn, however, interpreted the strangled noises he made to be sounds of pure and utter shock.

"Maybe our all-knowing friend forgot to learn how to read."

Legolas tried desperately to get some clean air into his lungs, but Gimli was still standing ten feet away, and all of Legolas' attempts only resulted in a more intense coughing fit. His glorious purple/brown/blue eyes bugged out of his fair head.

"Most likely his father decided it would be a waste of time."

His father had been ecstatic when little Legolas had learned to read! What joy had been etched upon his face when the tiny toddler, only 50 years old, had strutted up to him and shown him his new talent! How dare those mortals slander his childhood! He wretched again as new cloud of dwarf-sweat rolled in on his senses.

It was all so _unfair_.

"I- will have you know- that my father- has every- right to be- proud of- me!" he managed. Silence met his statement, and  
Legolas looked up to realize that Gimli and Aragorn had run off! In the wrong direction! Well, it was obvious, wasn't it? No matter how much those unfortunate mortals had insulted him, it was still his duty to lead them into enlightenment. The fate of the world could rest on him!

The elf flipped his hair, and ran off into the sunset.

The fact that he tripped and landed in a pile of horse dung did nothing to dampen his mood.


	4. Storming the Black Gate

Yes, I've been away for a while. And yes, I know, Unfairness, Part II is up next. But, as this obviously follows no timeline of anything whatsoever at ALL (really? huh.), I figured what the heck? I'll post it now.

XP

Disfrute!

Storming the Black Gate

"Sam and Frodo have no chance!" Gandalf stormed, his gray robes snapping with each movement.

Aragorn paused in a very kingly fashion. "Not unless we help them."

At this point, it is necessary to explain that Legolas had informed the group earlier that he had a brilliant plan that, per usual, would save them all. He had specifically requested that nobody suggest anything until they had heard his plan of brilliance out- and, of course, approved it with many lusty stares (on the non-smellies' part) and wistful cheers (smellies could participate). Gimli glanced accomodatingly at Legolas, who was intently watching a fly humming by the open window. The dwarf poked Legolas, waved a hand in front of his face, shrugged and decided to adlib.

Legolas, as a master of speech, would have fain had a hissy fit had he heard Gimli's dialogue.

"Of course, Aragorn. We must help them. What plan have you devised?" he waited for the elf prince to say his coveted line.

Normally, Gimli would not have bothered so much with Legolas' wishes, but waspish elves' petty revenge is something to be feared...even by a dwarf.

Legolas, as a master of speech, fain was fascinated...with the fly, obviously. The insect was circling round the ceiling. Around, and around, and around…

"Perhaps a…" Gimli prompted.

Around, and around…

"_A_…"

Now it was bumping against the doorpost and buzzing confusedly. Legolas had to hide a perfectly white smile.

Gimli gave up.

"A jackass with a tights wedgie."

Pippin snorted, and had to bury his face in Gandalf's cloak. Aragorn bit his lip in a very kingly fashion before reprimanding Gimli again, for that truly was not so courteous.

Merry joined Pippin in smothering his laughter with the grey folds of the wizard's cloak. Gandalf coughed. He was ticklish. Eomer, who until this time had been ignoring the whole proceedings, rolled his eyes and returned to ignoring and glaring through the window at Faramir, who was daring to converse with his sister.

Legolas was working on his second page of notes on his examination of common house fly habits, which would no doubt prove invaluable to posterity. Who knew that having compound eyes could be such an advantage? It could even have benefited the Elves, had they not already been so wondrously flawless and unequaled in all ways and manners…He subconsciously stroked his flaxen hair.

Aragorn had just finished outlining the details of his plans (complete with blueprints and a chronological guide as to the _exact_ placement of each soldier mid-battle, including but not limited to one in the outhouse and three waiting outside), which had met with united approval when Legolas deemed his extensive research had come to an end. Noticing the crowd still gathered near him, he gracefully opened his sublime mouth and delivered his genius idea to the tragically inferior beings.

He was, clearly, unaware of how the light reflecting in his blue/purple/brown eyes gave him a passionate, warrior's appearance.

At the sight of the mad elf, Pippin edged away.

"A diversion."

All conversation halted. Aragorn slowly lay his pointer down- in a very kingly fashion, of course.

"Pardon?"

Legolas, being the longsuffering elf everybody knew him to be, obliged.

"A diversion."

Gimli promptly whipped out a Westron/Adûnaic dictionary that conveniently also had the Common Eldarin and all its dialects, Dunlending and Khuzdul translations as well as a Haradrim cross-reference and an essay on Old Entish, whatever good that would do. Eomer checked the table of contents and noted with great disgust that Rohirric had been confined to a footnote.

The dwarf read aloud.

"Hm, let's see, shall we? Diversion: a distraction, normally an action the only purpose for which is to divert attention from a more important happening." He closed the book. "Yup, I'd say that that's what Aragorn's trying to create. Might be wrong, though, you never know. The poor lad might actually think that storming the Black Gate will work. Don't let's tell him he's wrong, okay?"

Legolas worked his jaw soundlessly, unable to come up with a single intelligent response. Rather strange, considering he was _him._

Didn't they realize that that w_as _the plan?

Gandalf slapped the elf on the back, winking conspiratorially. "You'll keep it a secret for us, Legolas, won't you?"

Somehow, Legolas, got the distinct feeling the wizard was mocking him.

He wiggled his jaw again, experimentally. It still wouldn't work. Nobody would realize that such a brilliant idea was _his,_ not Aragorn's. The man was merely a Ranger with a few quality perfumes poured on him to drown the smell.

The feeling that he was being made fun of was furthered when Merry clambered on a table to plunk his Rohirric helmet on the elf's head. Pippin swirled a cape about himself, attempting to pin it to Legolas shoulder's, but only succeeding in hooking one end to Legolas' kneecap, and getting another end stuck in his curly hair. The poor, misunderstood elf prince screeched and limped around the room as quickly as possible to avoid Pippin's attempts to rearrange the cloak, quite ungrateful for the Valar's interference in letting him speak again.

Eventually, with some difficulty on the hobbit's part, the befuddled elf found himself crowned and be-cloaked and being introduced as:

"Captain Obvious!Legolas"

* * *

Hope you enjoyed, after such a long hiatus. I have one more chapter almost finished, and about two more ideas in the works. Please feed my poor, starved kitty muse with raving reviews and intellectual ideas!

Or just a 'I think this line is stupid (insert stupid line here)' works. -.^ Lova you alllllll!


	5. Unfairness, Part II

I have always hated this line in the movies. In the books, it's none too bad, but in the movies there is no mention made of the fact that Legolas is the only one who can see the orcs at that point...and yeah...it's just plain dumb.

Kind of short, but one of my favorites in terms of humor. Read carefully, or you'll miss all the glorious little jabs at Leggy-kins ^_^

...

Unfairness, Part II

"They run as if the very WHIPS of their masters were behind them."

"They run as if the VERY whips of their masters were behind them."

"They run as if the very whips of their masters were BEHIND them...no, no, no..."

Legolas shook his golden/silver head in dissatisfaction, quite unaware that his hair was fanning out and creating a halo effect about his porcelain face. It took him several minutes to tweak this arbitrary effect into the most flattering arrangement for his skin tone. After that, it took him several more minutes to get the hair out of his mouth.

Being unintentionally and giftedly perfect was so difficult when gallivanting all over Arda. Legolas of the Woodland Realm sighed.

Then Legolas of the Woodland Realm perked up.

"They RUN as if the very whips of their masters were behind them," he declared.

Yes, that would do splendidly! Now, to think of a way in which to best present his discovery of...oh...four hours ago, was it? The smelly subbeings had not caught up yet. The ambrosial elf wrinkled his nose. He hoped that the clever traps he had laid would delay them for several hours more. They claimed to be so worried about the hobbits, and then they didn't even defend themselves from simple traps.

The hobbits...

When he had checked four hours ago, Pippin and Merry hadn't been eaten, smushed, or otherwise life-threateningly harmed yet. He was sure they were fine.

After all, they had him hot on their heels, did they not?

He spared his superbly toned limbs a quick glance, before straightening his broad shoulders back and devising a way in which to win the Aragorn-Looks-Stupid-Again-And-Congratulations-You-Induced-It award for the third time that week. A little ongoing side bet he had going on with Glorfindel.

Glorfindel cheated.

Legolas stood up on a boulder, his perfectly arranged hair fanning out into a perfectly arbitrary stream of gold in the wind. But no, his voice would be carried away. Still, it certainly added some dramatic flair.

Standing at the edge of the cliff, while dramatic as well, could prove hazardous if either worshipper of Dirty noticed his trademark "Green Tights Rule" logo embossed in the catapult. However, they were likely still stuck in the tiger pits...and tigers were terribly hard to emboss. He had had to settle for GTR, and what putrid idiot would make _that_ connection?

Yes, he truly was a genius beyond his kin. Still...Edges of cliffs to be avoided at all costs.

But the sage elf knew that drama came in many shapes and forms.

Such as...

He dug around in his all-purpose pack. Shimmer gel- handy, but not enough in this case. Molding paste- flamboyant, and the first punk rock accessories specifically for elves, but still not quite what he was looking for. Styling spray- perfect for curling ends just the way he wanted, but not...

Aha!

The super-scultipng-ooey-gooey-have-it-just-the-way-you-want-it-now-with-added-glitter clay! Perfection.

Unfortunately, perfection came with a very tight lid. Legolas frowned as his incomparable strength failed to open it. Bracing one foot against a conveniently placed tree, he lodged the other against a more commonly found rock, and groaned and grunted and griped and grimaced and gritted his pearly, never-stained teeth until- POP!

The lid flew off into the blue beyond, and at the same moment the rock slid back a few inches, unbalancing the elf and causing him to topple headfirst into his all-pupose hair care pack.

The two founders of Smelly Men and Dwarves' Revenge high fived, before observing the incredible pace at which the orcs

Aragorn and Gimli, at the exact moment specified by Illuvatar (and Peter Jackson), arrived on the scene to find Legolas with his face covered in shimmer gel, the super sculpting clay gluing his brush to his fingers, the pack stuck to his left hand, and his foot caught in a tube of straightening cream. The two were very much gratified to have come just in time to see him spray himself in the eye with hair spray.

Screaming, Legolas tripped over a rope marked SMDR and fell off the edge of the cliff, where his hair became frightfully knotted.

The establishers of Smelly Men and Dwarve's Revenge gave each other a very canon high five before noting the incredible pace at which the orcs were moving.

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Kyon-Kyon thanks you for the reviews, which he's now happily munching on. Ideas make him more amiable towards me *hint hint nudge nudge* ;)


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